


Loosen

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Relationship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Hank comes home to new protocols.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 210





	Loosen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sumo doesn’t greet him at the door, which is the second red flag, even though Sumo’s hardly one of those dogs that rushes up and jumps on him. Usually, Sumo at least _pretends_ to care that Hank’s home. He plods by and flicks his tail, maybe barks once. But he’s missing in action.

Just like Connor.

A part of Hank feels like it’s his own fault, splitting them up in the morning. They should’ve just driven to work together, like usual, except he wanted to stop off for a burger for breakfast without being lectured over the calories. It was bizarre, making it to work before Connor, but he figured Connor would show up for work eventually. Connor didn’t. And now Hank’s home early, because the great thing about his job is that he can fudge the hours. No one else seemed concerned about Connor’s absence, so Hank didn’t jump to conclusions. 

He figures Connor’s probably just on a cleaning binge and scrubbing down Hank’s grimy apartment. Except Connor’s not in the living, kitchen, or washroom. 

When Hank passes by the bedroom, Sumo barks at him, and Hank nearly jumps out of his skin. He does a double take through the ajar door, and sure enough, there’s Connor, sitting primly in the middle of a sea of blankets. The floor is covered in cloth, more spare blankets and sheets and some of Hank’s clothes. It all forms a perfect circle with a rounded border—a nice, neat _nest_.

Sumo sits outside like he’s suddenly a guard dog. In a way, it warms Hank’s heart to see just how much his dog loves his partner, even if Connor doesn’t really need the protection. It’s sweet of Sumo to try. 

It’s bizarre of Connor to be butt naked in the center of Hank’s bed on a work day. His smooth skin practically shines in the poor overhead lighting, his hair as neatly brushed as ever with just those same few strands down against his forehead. His brown eyes are big and open, his pink lips drawn into a smile when he sees Hank. He chirps, “Welcome home, Alpha.”

Hank stares. He shuffles closer, not missing the way Sumo’s beady eyes follow him suspiciously, even though he was Sumo’s human first. Because Connor doesn’t seem inclined to explain, Hank asks, “What the hell are you doing?”

Of course Connor answers, “Sitting.”

It’s an effort not to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I got that— _why?_ Where were you today?”

“I took a heat leave.”

Hank hoarsely repeats, “Heat leave.” Even the _concept_ has an effect on him, his crotch suddenly stirring, jumping to life at the mere mention of someone in _heat_. He hasn’t felt that rush in _years_. And he didn’t think he would again before he died, because as he reminds Connor, “Androids don’t have heats.” Androids don’t even have designations. They’re just... _androids_.

He knows they’re not just machines anymore. But he also knows the stiff cock nestled between Connor’s plush thighs was something they had to order from CyberLife and specially install, because there was nothing there but smooth plating originally. Connor’s no Traci—he didn’t come with sexual programming; he was a completely innocent virgin in Hank’s filthy hands, and everything he knows come from what Hank taught him. That and the internet. But even Tracis are just _Tracis_ , they’re not alphas or omegas. They’re warm bodies to thrust into that occasionally come to life and leave to be betas. 

But Connor tells Hank like it’s nothing, “I’ve finished the adjustments to my program. I believe I’ve figured out how to simulate heat like a human omega.” He gestures to the nest around him as though to offer it as evidence. It’s clearly _a nest_ , but it’s not the best proof of human imitation; like with everything Connor does, it’s too _perfect._

It’s also adorable. _Connor’s_ adorable. He’s irritating and mechanical but the cutest thing Hank’s ever seen, and eventually, Hank broke down. Hank knew he had to have his RK800 even if it meant never experiencing the rush of a flushed, sweaty omega ever again. Thus far, Connor’s been enough for him.

Connor still doesn’t sweat. He blushes, but his body can only get so warm. He never loses control _completely_ , but sometimes, when Hank fucks him hard enough, his voice box does crackle with static and his circuits seem to skip a beat. Maybe it’s not so hard to believe he could do the rest. It’s surprising but not unbelievable that he’d _want_ to. Hank still asks, “You want to be an omega... for me?”

Connor opens his mouth but takes a second to answer. His pupils dilate slightly, LED whirring yellow through strenuous thought. Then he answers quietly and simply but emphatically, “I want my alpha.”

A shiver runs down Hank’s spine. He wants Connor too. Maybe he always has. 

Taking it for an invitation, he steps into the nest. Sumo smartly putters out of the room, leaving the job of taking care of their omega to Hank, and Hank intends to do a damn good job.


End file.
